


Run Boy Run

by Jennsepticeye



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F slur, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Conversion Therapy, homophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye
Summary: “Come with me” Snafu says, barely audible over the sound of the train.“What?” Eugene isn’t quite sure he’d heard right. Up until now he assumed that the end of the war meant the end of whatever had developed between them, sparking and warm, as much as he hated the idea.“Come with me to Nawlins.” He drawls, wide eyes anxious as always, but hopeful.





	Run Boy Run

                Eugene is tired. Exhausted. They all are, but there’s no time to rest, not now that the war is over, and home is so close. The war is over. Now there’s a thought. The Japanese surrendered and most of K Company is still alive. It’s more than any of them could have hoped for, after what they’ve seen, after all they’d gone through.       

                Snafu is somehow more fidgety than before, pacing up and down the train car, flirting up a storm and picking at the collar of his service uniform. He eats everything that’s put in front of him and smokes half a pack by sunset. It’s slow for Snafu, but Burgie only smokes two and Eugene only packs his pipe once.

                “Hey there, Merriell Shelton. How bout you and I head to the back of this train and you let me check out that caboose?”

Instead the woman slaps him across the face. Solemnly he makes his way back to his seat, not even trying to hide his complete lack of disappointment.

“We’re too late.” He grins “Two weeks ago, that broad would have given us all blowjobs.”

“Is that right, _Merriell?_ ” Eugene asks, because in the months he’d served, he’d never bothered to learn Snafu’s first name, and Snafu had never bothered to tell.

“Sonuva’” Shelton cusses “I don’t wanna hear a word about it, from either of ya.” He points between Eugene and Burgie.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I didn’t hear anything, Mer.” Eugene smirks.

“I didn’t hear nothin’ either” Burgie chimes in, unconvincingly.

Snafu, _Merriell,_ rolls his eyes and pointedly opens a newspaper to cover his entire head and torso, like a child giving his parents the silent treatment.

Burgie disembarks early on the second day with a salute from Snafu and a hug from Sledge, promising that he’ll write them both. Then there’s two.

“So, Shelton, got any plans once you’re back in New Orleans?”   

Snafu had been staring out the window for the last twenty minutes, watching empty fields pass by. “Not sure. Get a job, I suppose. Find a place to live, see my maman. What about you, Sledgehamma?”          

“Dunno, go back to school I suppose. Do a whole lotta nothin’ if I can.”

Snafu hums in acknowledgement, kicking his feet up on the bench. The train is much emptier than it had been two days ago. “Always knew you was a white picket fence type of guy.”

Eugene laughs, “Kiss my ass, Snafu.”

“War’s over. Call me Merriell.” He says it so easily, no hesitation. Sledge isn’t sure why the request makes his cheeks get hot.

“Alright, Mer. Wake me when the food cart comes around.”

~*~

It’s the most relaxed Merriell has ever seen Eugene, thirty minutes from the train station in New Orleans, decked out in his service uniform and sleeping like a baby. His eyelashes cast spiderweb shadows on his cheeks, overlaying the dark circles. All the boots had bruises from lack of sleep, but Sledge’s always seemed the worst on account of him being so pale.

_Wake me up before Louisiana. You ain’t leaving without a proper goodbye_

Snafu worries his lip between his teeth, he’s out of smokes. On one hand, he had promised. On the other, this was probable the last decent sleep Eugene would get for a while. Twenty minutes from New Orleans Shelton nudges him with his boot. Eugene doesn’t startle awake like he would have a few weeks ago, when their lives depended on it. Instead he blinks awake slowly, looking completely soft and vulnerable for a few long seconds.

“Wh’re we?” He slurs, still sleepy.

“Twenty from Nawlins.”

They stare at one another for a long time. Fifteen from New Orleans Eugene stands, grabs Merriell’s sleeve, dragging him to the next car. “Come with me.”

Merriell does, because he’s never been able to deny Sledge anything since the moment he landed on Pelelieu.

Fourteen minutes from New Orleans they find an empty car, considerably easier than it would have been four days ago. Sledge is staring at him, still gripping his sleeve.

Merriell kisses him because now they’re only thirteen minutes from New Orleans and in thirteen minutes he’s going to miss this. He’s going to miss Eugene and the way he tastes like tabaco but not cigarettes, how warm he is. Someone could walk in any second, but he doesn’t know how to say goodbye and he sick of being stoic.

“Come with me” Snafu says, barely audible over the sound of the train.

“What?” Eugene isn’t quite sure he’d heard right. Up until now he assumed that the end of the war meant the end of whatever had developed between them, sparking and warm, as much as he hated the idea.

“Come with me to Nawlins.” He drawls, wide eyes anxious as always, but hopeful.

“Mer, I can’t just—" he says, and then stops, because really, what excuse does he have? This is the best solution to their little dilemma. It could be as easy as writing a letter home saying he’s moving in with a marine buddy, and not to worry about him. But Eugene’s not an impulsive person.  Snafu is. He knows that if the roles were reversed, Shelton wouldn’t hesitate.

“We’ll rent a two room, and you can go back to school. I’ll get a job, just like we was plannin’”

Eugene makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Alright, yeah.”

Five minutes later the train rolls into the dimly lit New Orleans station. Sea bags slung over their shoulders, Eugene and Merriell step onto the platform.

~*~

The adrenaline Eugene feels running away with Merriell is completely different from the adrenaline of the Pacific. In the pacific it felt like time was frozen, like he was suffocating. His fingers would twitch, his ears would ring, his heart would race. Now he’s vibrating. It feels like time is racing as they navigate out of the platform; his shoulders are tense, and excitement sits in his stomach like a ball of lead.

He sends a telegram to Sid first, so he doesn’t waste away waiting on the train platform to bring Eugene home. He’ll have to write his Ma eventually, to explain himself, to make excuses, he chooses not to think about it right now. Right now, he wants to think about Merriell.

It’s late and the hotel clerk doesn’t so much as glance twice at them as he hands over the keys.

Eugene all but collapses onto the closest bed the moment he takes his shoes off. It’s not a particularly soft or luxurious bed, but after stiff cots and cold wet ground, the squeaky springs are heaven.

“You alright, Genie?”

“I’m just dandy.” He replies, voice muffled by the musty comforter.

It’s edging towards midnight, and they’re both beyond exhausted, but once they’re both undressed and tucked into their respective beds, Eugene can’t get comfortable. He flips the pillow four times before Shelton speaks up.

“Cher, quit tossin’ and turnin’ and get ova here.”

Eugene still isn’t used to this, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He still remembers the fire and brimstone sermons at church every time a rumor came out about someone committing the sin of sodomy. The disgust of his peers when they gossiped still rings in his ears. He loves Merriell, no doubt about it, but there’s always a voice in the back of his head telling him he’s broken, disgusting.

“Sledgehamma?”

He realizes he’s been motionless, stuck in his head for a good minute. “Alright, I’m comin’. Hold your horses, Shelton.

Merriell is a furnace under the blanket, calloused hands warm on Sledge’s waist. He lays with his head on Snafu’s collar. Almost immediately he’s more comfortable, eyelids heavy as lead.

“Sleep well, Cher.”

Eugene only hums before dropping into nothing.

~*~

Sledge wakes up early, they both do, because the Marines beat it into them. They probably won’t sleep later than 0800 hours for the next few months, even if they’re up till midnight.

“Mornin’, Cher.”

“Merriell.” Eugene replies, kissing him sweetly. And _yeah_ this is nice. This little pocket, this little bubble that’s theirs and theirs alone. A little moment of peace outside of the real world. “You gonna give me the grand tour of this fancy city of yours?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, Gene. Sure. Though I ain’t sure ‘fancy’ is the word you’re looking for.”

“I mean, it ain’t Mobile, for sure, but…”

Merriell laughs. _Jesus_ what Sledge would give to hear that laugh every day, vibrating from the base of his ribs and making Shelton’s face light up. “Kiss my ass, Sledge. Betcha Mobile doesn’t have its own Café Lafitte.”

“And I’m sure you’re just dying to show me.”

~*~

Snafu does make good on his promise to show Eugene the best New Orleans has to offer. From cozy diners to raucous pubs. However, he seems most excited to show Eugene _Café Lafitte_.

Late night in the city in the city is really something to behold, most nights alive with music and bright lights. Will all the noise, Café Lafitte doesn’t stick out, not on the outside anyway. The bouncer looks them over and nods at Merriell. “Good to have you back, Shelton.”

“Yeah. I’m sure the joint’s been real dull since I’ve been away. I mean, without me drinkin’ half the booze, I gotta wonder how y’all are stayin’ open.”

The bouncer rolls his eyes and steps aside to let them enter. Nothing could have prepared Sledge for what he sees inside.

He’d heard scandalized whispers in Mobile about queer bars and queens and “cesspools of sin.” Café Lafitte is all that and more. There are two queens sitting at the bar dressed to the nines and talking in booming voices, complete with explosive hand gestures.  Next to them is a woman in a suit, sitting affectionately close to another woman. The jukebox is playing something quick and swingy, straining to be heard over the dull roar of the patrons.

Snafu grabs his sleeve, dragging him to the bar and effectively shocking him out of whatever trance he’d lost himself in. He gets two beers while Eugene just stares.

“So, Sledgehamma, better than Mobile?”

“How crazy would I be to kiss you right now?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Merriell says, challenging, so he does.

He really, really likes kissing Merriell. Eugene has little experience in kissing and absolutely none in kissing men. Shelton always makes it worthwhile. Soft and sweet like honey and sharp in a way that only Snafu could pull off. His lips are a bit chapped and he’s holding Sledge’s face in his hands.

Someone rings a loud bell and the whole bar takes a drink from whatever they’re holding while Eugene gapes, shocked. There’s a round of hollering and Shelton laughs, taking a drink from his own beer. He has that easy little smirk on his face. “Welcome to the authentic Café Lafitte experience.”

Café Laffite is like nothing Eugene has ever seen.

~*~

Shelton had never pictured himself dancing in a queer bar with someone, or at least not someone permanent. Before Eugene, before the war, he had never looked for something committed. He had a different man on his arm every Friday. Then a skinny little red head Marine got under his skin and made a home in his chest.

Eugene is nervous, not quite sure how to behave, but he looks stunning under the dim lights, his hair looks seconds away from catching fire. And of course, the Alabama boy knows how to lindy-hop, and tries his best to teach Merriell “two left feet” Shelton. It’s the most open he’s ever seen Eugene. Soft and smiling, throwing Shelton across the tiny available floor space.

Then the bouncer is yelling “Cops! Scatter!” and it’s like he’s a different person. There’s some sort of disconnect and Merriell Shelton, bad dancer and romantic disappears. Suddenly he’s PFC Snafu Shelton again, acting on instinct and pulling Sledge towards the back of the bar. The police are telling them to freeze, but this isn’t Merriell’s first or last raid. He just needs to get Gene out.

 ~*~

Eugene feels Merriell pulling him before he quite realizes what’s going on, but he doesn’t fight it.  He just follows, racing towards the back of the bar. He has no idea what will happen if he’s caught and he’s not in a rush to find out.

There’s a flood of queens and fairies and dykes sprinting out the back exit. Eugene lets himself be carried out the door with them. Merriell tugs him down alleys and backstreets. Running, running, running and he’s just glad it’s gravel and not mud under his shoes. Gravel doesn’t threaten to pull him under the surface.

They don’t stop running until they’re a good half mile from the bar, hunched over and heaving for breath, leaning against each other for support. Merriell looks over at him, wide eyed as always and completely disheveled. That’s all it takes for Eugene to lose it, bending over and laughing until his stomach cramps. Shelton is laughing too, despite the lack of any actual humor. They’re probably hysterical after the adrenaline of the raid.

After a while it tapers off save for the buzzing of giddiness Eugene can feel under his skin. “Holy shit, Mer. What the fuck?”

“I wouldn’t worry Sledgehamma, Lafitte gets raided every otha week.”

“Oh great.” He deadpans. He slings an arm around Shelton’s shoulders in a practiced platonic façade. They start walking back towards the hotel. “You ever been caught?”

“Ah, once or twice.” He gives a cheeky grin that says he has definitely been arrested more than twice.

“A regular ol’ daredevil. I dunno why I put up with you.”

“Dunno, Gene. Must be my classy Nawlins charm.”

“Sure. Something like that.”

~*~

They spend two more weeks in hotels, decked out in their service uniforms, before they find a place to lay their heads for a while. The landlady gives them a knowing look when she hands over the keys, telling them to keep out of trouble.  

Shelton, with no home to send his Marine checks, had hoarded enough savings to pay the rent until they both found some work. It’s not a large place by any means. It’s actually almost suffocatingly small, no bigger than the sitting room back at his home in Mobile, but it has two rooms, a full kitchen, and a bathroom. The only furnishings were left behind by the previous tenants, a set of hideous yellow curtains, a couch that may have once had a floral print, and a rat chewed mattress with no frame.       

It’s not much at all, particularly when compared to Eugene’s life before the war, but it’s home. It’s a start.

A week into settling in, Eugene remembers his mother. He can clearly picture the look of righteous Catholic anger on her face, something she perfected in his childhood. He can hear her scolding him for not writing sooner and making her worry.

When he finally puts pen to paper though, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never lied to his mother before, not about something so big. Really, how could he explain running away to Louisiana without sounding like he’s completely lost his sanity? _Hey Ma. Sorry I didn’t come home? I’ve been too busy living a life of sin with a marine buddy?_ His thoughts spiral so dramatically that Merriell has to take the pen from Eugene’s hand because he’s worried. He’s been frowning at the paper for nearly twenty minutes.

He does write her eventually. It’s perfunctory and blunt, and he chalks the delay up to not having a return address. It’s as honest as he can make it without giving her a heart attack. _I’m going to stay in New Orleans for a bit. I can’t bear to come home to Mobile just yet. Not after everything. Maybe I’ll come down for Easter, and maybe Shelton could come too?_

After he puts it in the mail, he tries to put it to the back of his mind, so he doesn’t make himself sick with worry. He tries to think about other thinks, like how they can afford two beds, so they can keep up appearances and stop sleeping on the sofa. He thinks about enrolling and starting classes at New Orleans University while trying to find a job. Merriell, the bastard, lands a job at the lumberyard just a few days in.

They settle into a routine. It’s quiet and peaceful to the point that they’re almost jumpy from it, still stuck in the excitement of a war they’re no longer fighting.

They’re soldiers. They should have known that peace never lasts.

~*~

Eugene’s father had told many a cautionary tale about patients he treated from the Great War, the First World War. He spoke in solemn whispers about how they would forget where they were, acting as if they were back in the trenches, some plagued by terrible nightmares. Eugene had seen it himself, soldiers bludgeoned so their nightly screams wouldn’t give their position away. The threat of attack always lingered. But he’s young and stupid and doesn’t ever imagine that that will be him. He’s seen some shit, sure, but he’s not going to be the guy losing sleep over it.

Until he is.

~*~

_He’s being swallowed up. He’s going to die here, drowning in mud with his arm trapped in a dead man’s bones and covered in maggots. They’re everywhere and the dead man won’t give him his arm back._

_“Sledge, come on!” Burgie shouts, holding out a hand. The Japs are storming them, they need to move. Now._

_Sledge reaches out and then a Jap is there, planting a blade between Burgie’s shoulders, pushing him into the pool of mud, staining it red, red, red._

_“No!” he cries, grappling at Burgie’s uniform with one arm. He needs to get him out of the mud, out of the maggots so he can breathe. He needs a Corpsman._

_Except once he’s face up it’s not Burgin who’s staring up at him, it’s Snafu, choking on blood and stolen Jap teeth. His curls are matted with mud and crawling with maggots. Eugene is going to throw up._

_He’s being pulled away, the dead man tugging on his arm, it won’t let him go. He can’t get a foothold to stay, to find a Corpsman for Merriell. He kicks but it’s useless. He’s being pulled farther and farther away._

_“No! Stop!”_

**Gene!**

_He’s choking on mud and maggots are crawling on his face. Merriell is dying and there’s nothing he can do. He_ _—_

**Sledgehamma!**

He comes to suddenly, drenched in sweat that’s much too similar to the sticky blood he can still feel on his hands. Merriell is looking at him with those strange worried green eyes. His hands are warm and dry on the sides of Sledge’s face. His mouth is moving, and Eugene thinks he should probably be concentrating.

“Just breathe, Sledgehamma. You’re safe. You’re out. You’re alright, Cher.”

He tries, but all he can see is Mer’s bloodied face, covered in mud and maggots. His breathing is unsteady and too fast. He can’t. _He can’t_ _—_

It’s warm, warmer, and he takes a couple seconds to realizes that Merriell is holding Sledge’s hand against his chest. Against the warm skin and the steady heart thrumming beneath. _Thump thump thump._ Eugene lets himself be embraced, nose tucked into the crook of his neck. Shelton isn’t wearing a shirt. Of course, he isn’t. Eugene lets himself cry, heaving with breathless sobs.

“You’re okay, Gene. You’re safe. I’m safe.” He says, voice soft and mild, lips moving against the crown of Sledge’s head. “The war’s over, Cher. You’re home.”

Eugene tries his best to concentrate on Merriell’s heartbeat under his palm, on breathing, on now and not then. It’s a good half hour before the terror passes, before he stops feeling light headed with sobs and his tears dry.

“I’m alright, Gene. It’s okay.” He must have been talking in his sleep, for Shelton to know that Eugene was worried he’d lost him.

He wait’s a moment, taking a deliberate breath before relaxing his grip and sitting upright. He doesn’t pull away from Merriell. He’s shivering, clammy with sweat.

“You all there, Genie?”

He just nods, not trusting his voice.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of those clothes before you catch your death.”

Eugene lets Merriell pull of the damp t-shirt and wrap him up in a blanket. He can hear the clock ticking on the night stand, the music down the street and the creek of the floorboards settling.

“Get some sleep, Sledgehamma. I’ll take first watch.” Merriell drawls, leaning them shoulder to shoulder against the head board. He knows that Shelton could fall asleep seconds after him, but the promise still makes him feel safe. He feels safe with Merriell.

It becomes routine. Eugene falls asleep, an hour later his screaming and kicking wakes Merriell. He wakes Sledge, calms him down and promises to take first watch. Inevitably he falls asleep just a few minutes later. Like clockwork.

Of course, every time they seemed to work things out, every time they settled, every time they felt safe, something comes in and uproots it all.

~*~

Sledge had never gotten a reply from his mother. No elegant script demanding he come back to Alabama or telling him how disappointed she is. He doesn’t hear from anyone back in Mobile. Not his brother, or his father, or Sid, despite updating his address with the VA office. No one reaches out, so he doesn’t reach back.

No one reaches out until two months after the war ends.

~*~

Everything goes to shit in November. There’s no foreshadowing, no lead up, no bad omens or signs from above. It’s a sunny afternoon when someone knocks at the door.

“Mer, you expectin’ someone?” Sledge asks.

“Not that I can remember.” He answers from the bedroom, changing out of his work clothes.

Eugene sets down his newspaper and walks over to the door. There’s no peephole, so he has no way of knowing that his world is about to overturn.

~*~

Shelton doesn’t hear anything from the sitting room after the door opens, so he pokes his head out the door. Eugene is stock still at the door, and for good reason, because in the hallway is Sidney Phillips in a neatly pressed suit. Leave it to him to make Shelton feel underdressed in his own home.

Phillips spots him and flashes a smile that Snafu can’t decipher, but it isn’t completely friendly. Suspicion, maybe? “Snafu, Gene. It’s good to see you.”

“Sid, what are you doing here?” Gene asks, finally.

“Missus Sledge gave me your new address. I figured I’d pay a visit. See what’s keeping you from ‘Bama.” He shifts his weight. “You gonna invite me in?”

“Yeah, of course.” Gene steps aside, shooting Merriell a look that can’t be read as anything but sheer _panic_. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.”

Merriell can tell that Sledge is just glad to have something to do with his hands. He lights up a smoke for the same reason.

“So, where are you staying?” The sound of water filling the kettle is like an air raid siren in the tense silence. Snafu almost flinches.

“The hotel down the street, with the purple shutters.”

The conversation lapses again. It’s clear that Phillips and Gene used to be close, because the silences are so tense it’s tangible. Shelton can feel the awkwardness making his shoulders tight.

~*~

Sidney isn’t meant to have to have awkward silences with Eugene. They know everything about each other, or they used to. Now he can’t even begin to interpret the looks that he’s sending Shelton. Panicked and secretive as they are.

The kettle boils and Eugene places three cups on the table. Sidney doesn’t understand why Shelton needs to stay for this conversation. Who is he to Eugene?

“Look Gene, I’m gonna be frank. What are you doing? I mean—" Sid gestures around the room. He could never imagine Eugene in a place like this. “—what is all this?”

                “I’m—"  Gene frowns, “I’m settling. I’m taking classes and figuring shit out.”

                “Yeah, but what the hell? What about Mobile? What about your ma, and your home? You just left all that to move in with Snafu of all people.” Then he amends “No offense.”

                Snafu just shrugs. Sidney hand never been able to get a read on him like other Marines, so he can’t tell if he’s offended or not. Eugene, though. Eugene is seething. His jaw is clenched, and his face is going red. Not to mention he won’t meet Sidney’s eyes.

                ~*~

                Eugene tries not to let on that he’s mad, but he knows better than to think he’s convincing anyone. “I’m not going back to Mobile, at least not for a while. You fought in the same shit, you should know what it’s like. Alabama is only my home as much as fuckin’ Peleleiu. I can’t go back.”

                “So, you’re just going to run away?” Sid asks, incredulous.

                Sledge almost laughs, because on Peleleiu and Okinawa he did the exact opposite, because he was a stupid self-righteous kid who thought he was too good for death. “Run away? Jesus, Sid, after everything you’d think I earned the right to make my own decisions. I’m a god damned Marine, not some scrawny kid with a heart murmur.”

                That seems to finally give Sid pause, regret written across his face. “C’mon, Gene. I didn’t mean it like that.”

                Sid keeps glancing warily at Merriell, though he’s been silent for the entirety of the conversation. Argument. He looks mostly unbothered by the chaos, but Eugene con see from the set of his shoulders that he’s just waiting for an excuse to intervene. He’s got that battle-ready look in his eyes.

                “I’m happy here, Sid, and I know I’m happier than I would have been in Mobile. You can’t seriously expect me to drop everything I’ve built here to run home to mommy.”

                “No. Just consider how this effects everyone else. You can’t hide forever.”

                Now Eugene does laugh, sharp and cynical. “Yeah, well it’s not like anyone was in a rush to reach out to me either. I’m right here, and I’m not hiding from shit.”

                Shelton’s bare foot taps his under the table and they lock eyes. His strange green eyes seem to say _are you okay?_ and _I’m here._ and _It’s gonna be fine._ all at once. Sid is looking a Snafu with obvious suspicion and fear finds its way under his skin. He’s desperately hoping it’s not what he thinks it is. There’s no way he could know, right?

                “It’s getting late.” Sid says. “I should be getting back to the hotel. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

                Eugene, in all his god forsaken southern manners walks him the eight steps to the door and sees him out. He’s exhausted.

                ~*~

                Gene looks set to keel over in fatigue, not dissimilar to his adrenaline crashes in the war. Shelton draws the blinds before approaching him, still leaning against the closed door.

                “You okay, Cher?”

                Eugene just sighs, leaning into him. Merriell hugs him, nose buried in fine red hair. His own thoughts are spiraling faster than he can grasp at them. Screaming that this is all his fault. If he hadn’t manipulated him into coming to New Orleans he could have a normal life with a pretty blonde skirt on his arm and 2.5 children. Snafu is fucked up, and he’s fucking up Eugene’s life too. He’s a selfish bastard and he doesn’t deserve—

                “Hey.” Gene says, interrupting his spiral and giving him a sharp look. “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

                “Gene…”

                “No. I gotta whole lotta affection for you. I ain’t gonna let it go to waste because Sid comes riding in on his high-horse. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

                And Merriell does, because he’s never been able to refuse Eugene one damn thing.

                ~*~

                Phillips does knock again the next day, before Eugene gets home from classes, but not before Shelton returns home. He’s in the middle of cooking dinner. Snafu lets him in because he’s polite, but it’s awkward. He was never friends with Phillips. They didn’t talk on Gloucester or Pavuvu. They knew of each other, but they didn’t know each other, not really.

                “You want some coffee, Phillips?” He offers.

                “I’m fine, thanks.”

                With nothing to do, Shelton lights a cigarette. After a few puffs he notices Phillips giving him the same suspicious look as before, eyes narrowed as if Snafu is a particularly complex puzzle.

                “Out with it, Phillips. You got something’ you wanna say, so say it.” He makes himself sound bored, but anxiety is seeping under his skin. People like him never get to relax. He may as well have “fairy” stamped on his forehead.

                “I’m just wonderin’ what you have to offer Eugene that his own family doesn’t”

                “I dunno. Guess you’d have to ask him that.” He’s defensive, because really, what can he offer Sledge? A life of hiding?

                Phillips’s frown deepens, and his voice is low and angry. “He has a lot of good things waitin’ for him in Mobile, so what about you is keepin’ him here?”

                “I ain’t keepin’ him here. You’re his friend. You should know better than anyone that Gene doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

                “He also didn’t run off to the bayou with Cajun faggots before you.”

                _Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

Phillips must see something on Shelton’s face because he smirks. “Yeah, I heard about some of the shit you got into on Gloucester.”

                “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, boo.”

                The affectionate nickname seems to be the last straw, because suddenly Snafu is on the floor. He can feel the blood on his face before he registers the pain radiating from his nose.

                “You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, Shelton. Eugene had a good thing goin’ before you came along and fucked with his head.”

                Merriell hears more than he sees the door open, along with the accompanying shout of “What the fuck Sid?!”

                “Eugene, I—”

                “God, what in the hell is wrong with you?”

                “Please, Gene. Just stop all this nonsense and come back to Mobile.” Phillips says, but evidently Sledge isn’t listening. Instead he kneels on the floor and dabs at the blood with his handkerchief. He’s holding Snafu’s face in his hands.

                “We’re gonna need to get somethin’ cold on that, but it’s not broken. You alright, Mer?”

                ~*~

                When he hears the yelling from inside the apartment, Eugene hopes for the best. That maybe they’re just arguing over baseball teams. Instead he finds Merriell laid out on the floor bleeding, and Sid standing over him. So, Eugene rushes over to him, cleaning the blood from his face. Thankfully nothing seems to be broken. Sid is trying to defend himself, but Eugene isn’t hearing him, too busy helping Merriell onto one of the dining chairs and fetching a cool rag.

                “Eugene.” Sid tries again, and Sledge has had enough.

                “What, Sidney? What? What possible reason could you have for coming into our home and punchin’ my best guy?” He’s absolutely livid.

                “What the hell is wrong with _you,_ Eugene? You expect me to believe this fuckin’ fairy isn’t the reason you abandoned your family—?”

                “Damn right he is. And I’m startin’ to see that I made the right choice. Stickin’ by someone who really loves me, rather than you.”

                “Love?! You think he loves you? He’s using you! He made you like this!” Sid accuses, and Eugene can see on Merriell’s face that this is getting to him, that he believes it.

                Sledge’s hand hurts where it collides with Sid’s face, and he doesn’t even remember winding up to take a swing, but he did. “Fuck you, Sid! As if this even compares to the monster I became in the Pacific. We murdered _mothers and children,_ but heaven forbid I fall in love with a man. And yeah, I do think he loves me, and I love him. So, what are you gonna do about it? You gonna run back to Mobile and tell my Mama her son is a pansy ass faggot? I won’t stop you.”

                “Gene, there are treatments for this. I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to have to hide for the rest of your life.”

                “I am happy. You can either accept that or get out of my home.”

                Sid is holding his cheek, and Eugene is almost proud of the discoloration he can see. Sid scoffs and yanks his coat on. He storms out the door, slamming it for good measure. Eugene is immensely relieved that he’s gone and turns back to Merriell. He’s got a resigned look on his face and a cigarette hanging between his lips. His nose may not be broken, but he’ll have two black eyes in the morning.

                “Mer?” Gene asks, because Merriell is a stubborn bastard, and the defeated look in his eyes doesn’t belong there.

                “He’s right, you know. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.” He says.

                Eugene kneels in front of him, holding both of his hands because as much of a lone wolf that he pretends to be, Merriell lives to be held, to be coveted. “Yeah, but I also wouldn’t have lived through the war without you. Who knows what I would have become if I didn’t have you there, lying to me about germs. I wouldn’t have been happy without you. I like being here with you. Sure, things would’ve been a bit less complicated if I had gone back home and landed a pretty dame, but you’re worth it. You’ll always be worth it.” It feels like Merriell’s strange green eyes are looking into his soul.  Eugene pulls the glowing cigarette from his mouth, so he can kiss him. He tries to convey everything he’s never been able to say, how much he loves Merriell and how much he means to Sledge. He’s been through hell, and he’d go through it again for Shelton. No hesitation.

                It’s a few seconds before Merriell kisses back, soft, afraid, and raw. Eugene snubs out the smoke in the ashtray before leading Merriell back to the bedroom. Tomorrow, his eyes will be so swollen that he has to call off work, but tonight Eugene’s sole duty is to make him feel wanted.

                ~*~

                After Sid leaves, they try to make things go back to normal, though with more caution than before. Eugene knows that Sid went back to Mobile and told his family everything. Maybe he sat them down and said it like he’s died, maybe he yelled and threw a fit. Sledge doesn’t much care, but he imagines that quite a few rumors have started up. He tries not to think too much about his family and what they think of him now.

                Until he receives a letter from his father.

                His father has neat, practiced script, unlike most doctors. It’s easily recognizable, which is why Eugene knows who it is without even reading the return address. He’s always had a good relationship with his father, they were closer than his father was with Edward Jr. Despite all that, he’s understandably terrified to open the envelope. The fact that it’s thin could mean anything from _you’re dead to us_ to _I love you._ Sledge opens the envelope.

                It starts innocently enough. _Eugene._ He lights his pipe before he continues.

                _In the years of my practice, I have seen many patients sick in the way that Sidney has told us that you are. At least a dozen young men going through excruciating and humiliating therapy for their so-called “affliction.” Without fail, every young man remained attracted to the same sex._

Eugene’s hands are shaking, so he takes a pull from his pipe.

                _Nine of the thirteen young men I thought I was helping ended their own lives. It makes me sick to think I had some part in that. Every illness has a treatment, yet there is no treatment for homosexuality, which leads me to believe it isn’t an illness. Those men didn’t seem sick to me, they were just unfortunate._

_You’re a strong young man who has seen more than anyone should have to. Whether your attraction to Shelton is a choice or not, he makes you happy, as far as I can tell. You are and always will be my son._

Sledge has to blink back tears and wipe his sweaty hands on his trousers.

                _I hate that you’ll never be safe because of this, but you always were a stubborn one._

_I think your mother knew, and that’s why she never replied to that first letter, maybe she was just upset that she couldn’t see you first. She won’t tell me. Your mother doesn’t understand, and she won’t listen to me on the matter. You got your stubbornness from her. I truly wish you and Shelton the best in life._

Eugene’s tears refuse to be held back any longer and, in a few seconds, he’s crying onto his father’s letter. After all the shit that he and Merriell have been through, reading what his father wrote is as liberating as Café Lafitte had been all those months ago. Because, while he had lost his best friend, his mother and his brother, someone is still there for him. His father still loves him.

                “Sledghamma? Is somethin’ wrong?” Merriell had been in the shower while Eugene read through the mail, now he’s clean and clad only in his sleep pants.

                Sledge shakes his head, holding out the letter. “Quite the opposite.”

                There’s a minute of almost silence while he reads, leaning against the back of the sofa. When he finishes Shelton flashes Eugene the lazy grin that hadn’t failed to make him flush since he landed on Pelelieu.

                “Well ain’t that fuckin’ somethin’?” He drawls. Then he pauses, waiting…

                Sledge just rolls his eyes and yanks him into a kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in the pacific fandom. Let me know what you think.


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